


This is What I Remember

by anarchycox



Series: Anarchycox's 2019 Personal Writing Challenge [25]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Bad Parents, Character Study, Coming Out, Feels, Gen, Judaism, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of the Holocaust, character history, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 20:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20297221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: We properly learn who Percival is, how he grew up.





	This is What I Remember

**Author's Note:**

> I deliberately left year tags off this fic, there are enough markers in it to help you roughly guess his age as the course of his life runs through the story.

He sat on the third step, he liked that step. He could see into the kitchen, but couldn’t be seen. It let him hear all sorts of interesting things. His father and Auntie Elaine were arguing, again. They fought a lot at these monthly dinners. And father was suggesting that maybe they would get a nanny again, not have Percival spend so much time here, with the influences that were clearly happening.

He didn’t like nannies. He liked Auntie Elaine and her friend who lived with her, that he was secretly calling Aunt Ruth. Auntie Elaine told clever stories, and Aunt Ruth was helping him with his multiplication tables. He had won a ribbon in class for knowing his fours. He had shown his parents, they were upset he only won fours, and not everything. Aunt Ruth had given him a fairy cake, and told him how proud she was.

He listened to them fight and didn’t understand why his dad was so sure that they were ‘influencing’ him. And why that was a bad thing? Being like Auntie Elaine and Aunt Ruth would mean being smart, kind, faithful, and a bit magical. That seemed pretty nice to him. He liked coming here where they said prayers, and kept the holy days. His parents didn’t as much, but it was super important to Aunt Ruth. And whatever was important to her friend, was important to Auntie Elaine.

When he grew up he hoped he and his best friend were that close too.

He heard someone coming down the top of the steps and looked. “They are fighting again.”

“Brothers and sisters do that,” Aunt Ruth said, and sat on the step next to him. “Spying?”

“I was here, not my fault they came to the kitchen to argue,” Percival said.

“My little lawyer,” Aunt Ruth kissed his head as she always did when he said what he thought was logical. “Your father and Elaine, love each other. They just forget to say it sometimes.”

“Why are you and Auntie Elaine a bad influence?” That was the thing that was sticking with Percival. “Why would he mad I might turn out like you? You are great.”

“Thank you, dear. And that is nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she promised him. They both sat there and listened to the argument. That was the other good thing about Aunt Ruth, she didn’t say stop listening, or pull him away, lecture about eavesdropping - she wanted the information too.

They were arguing about something different now. “Why is Father mad I met your uncle? He was nice. He sneaked me an extra chocolate.” Percival looked at Aunt Ruth. “Why would your uncle make him uncomfortable?” 

He wasn’t used to Aunt Ruth looking sad, and he hugged her. “Your father just...some things are hard to face.”

“Is it because your uncle had a tattoo on his arm?” Percival looked at her. “Father thinks tattoos are cheap and crass. Plus they aren’t supposed to be for Jewish people. I remember that from Hebrew School.”

“It is more what the tattoo is connected to,” Aunt Ruth said after a moment, clearly trying to think of the right way to say things. “That tattoo is...well that tattoo hurts us all, and some people hurt in different ways when they see it. We’ll explain that when you are older. What I want to know is was it just one piece of chocolate Uncle Irving gave you?”

“It was four,” Percival said, and giggled too loudly and the conversation in the kitchen stopped. “Oops.”

“Oops is right,” Auntie Elaine said opening the door wide, and staring at them. 

Percival smiled at his father. “I don’t want a nanny again. I want Auntie Elaine and Aunt Ruth.” He stuck out his chin, determined, proud that he dared call Aunt Ruth that for the first time to his father. He could tell that pleased them.

The rest of dinner was awkward, and next week he had a nanny again, and didn’t see Auntie Elaine and Aunt Ruth until Yom Kippur. 

****

“Mummy and Father have a huge party planned. I didn’t even know we had that many relatives,” Percival was sitting at the table in the garden. “And all their friends. I don’t like it. I tried to tell them, but they insisted that this was one of the most important events in my life, and everyone should celebrate it. I didn’t even get to pick which friends to invite.”

“They just want it to be a good day.”

“They haven’t helped me practice once. They just care about the party.”

Auntie Elaine and Aunt Ruth exchanged on of their looks, they often had this look about his parents. “Well that is why you have us, isn’t it?” Auntie Elaine was sitting at the table with him, and Aunt Ruth was pulling her dead plants. She was a horrible gardener, which Percival found funny for some reason. “Now what part is causing you problems?”

Percival showed Auntie Elaine the piece of scripture that he was going to read. Auntie Elaine read it out loud. “The Rabbi said women aren’t supposed to read from the Torah.”

“The Rabbi can suck my -”

“Kumquats,” Aunt Ruth interjected. “And you read it beautifully, my dear.”

“You do,” Percival agreed. “I like the way you do, you have different pauses. Why?”

“You listen carefully, good,” Auntie Elaine said.

“People don’t expect you to listen, I like to be unexpected.”

“Even better,” she praised. They went carefully over the scripture, and he felt a lot more confident. Aunt Ruth got up, tried to swipe the dirt away, and went to make them tea.

“Father doesn’t really care about this,” Percival said quietly. “It isn’t about the words or what they mean. It is just what you are supposed to do, look good to everyone else. They care about the performance of it.”

Auntie Elaine gave him one of her serious looks, one that meant she was going to tell him something true. “Never underestimate the power of performance,” she told him. “You might know it is a show, a con, complete bullshit;” he giggled at his aunt swearing, “But performance can get you far. Performance got me and your Aunt Ruth through a lot.”

“Like what?” He leaned forward, eager to learn more.

“Me being the ‘difficult to manage’ sort, and getting a ‘roommate’ for one.” Auntie Elaine took a quick glance, and Ruth was on the phone. She moved a brick, lit a fag. “Think we were ever just roommates?”

Percival flushed a bit. He was still supposed to just call her Ruth at home. “No?”

“Performance made her husband believe my shotgun was loaded when I helped her pack her bags to leave him.”

“Aunt Ruth is married?”

“He died a few years back, stroke. He was probably a good man once, but he didn’t stay like that, and goddamn right I rescued her from that abusive jackass, like a knight in a fucking shining Volvo.” She took another drag. “And performance is what gets you through 90% of dealing with humanity. Son, it is all a big fucking show. Just make sure you are the goddamn ringmaster of it.”

“Elaine Morton you do not have a cigarette in your hand, do you?” Aunt Ruth shouted from the window.

Percival didn’t think, just yanked it out of Auntie Elaine’s fingers. “Mine,” he called out, and took a drag. He managed just barely not to gag. “It fell out of my pocket, and...she lit it and was smoking it to show me how gross someone looks with a fag in their mouth.” He took another drag, bloody hell it was disgusting. “And lesson learned Aunt Ruth.” He smiled at her. “Never am smoking again. I wouldn't want to look as horrid as Auntie Elaine did, and worry those who love me about cancer, and ruin my clothes with that filthy smell.”

“Good boy, I’m glad you learned your lesson. But still, just tea no biscuits,” she said. “And Elaine, Georgie is moving Bridge an hour back.”

“Okay, dear,” Auntie Elaine called back. Percival stubbed out the cigarette. “I could have finished that.”

“I think I learned my lesson, Auntie Elaine. All of them.” He smiled at her. It was a match to her smile.

When Aunt Ruth came out she also had a box with her. “I know your mother has a new suit for you for your bar mitzvah and has your father’s tallit, or a new one handwoven on some hill by the right person, but we thought, you might wear this one.”

Percival opened the box, and the tallit was old, a bit worn. He could almost feel the love pouring off it. “Whose was it?”

“Uncle Irving,” Ruth said. “He liked you, said you would go far. We didn’t mention it, but he left you this and his law books. Wanted us to wait to give them to you when the time was right. Law books can wait a few more years.”

“It should go to his family, we met what a half dozen times?”

“Hun, there was no immediate family, his wife died in the camps, his siblings. He was my uncle, because he was friends with my parents. He won’t have anyone to remember him.” 

“He has us.” Percival touched the fabric. “Thank you, Aunt Ruth.”

“Of course, my little lawyer.” She kissed his cheek. “Now if you get in trouble with your father, you just tell him to -”

“Suck my kumquats,” Auntie Elaine added.

Percival giggled some more, and they had tea. His voice rang out at his bar mitzvah, and his parents were whispering with friends, barely paying attention, but Auntie Elaine was beaming, and Aunt Ruth was crying, and he held Uncle Irving’s tallit close.

***

They were in the study and watching telly. People were talking about the new adverts that had gone up and how AIDS was impacting Great Britain and the world. Pride was next week. “Father hates the adverts.”

“Of course he does,” Auntie Elaine snorted.

“Said they are crass.”

“It is his favourite word,” Aunt Ruth replied.

“He also told me...it was a smart man who avoided influences entirely.” He looked at his aunts. “He then suggested maybe I be careful what sort of people I met when I visited here.”

“Oh yes, there are just so many lovely gay men blowing each other in the parlour across the way right now,” Auntie Elaine almost growled. “The only queer man you’ve met here are our Bridge mates, been together as long as me and Ruth, and barely get it up anymore.”

“Mother said that gay men carry a certain panache in their circles, patted my cheek and said, so not an issue in our house is it?” Percival kept staring at the telly.

“Good to know a couple extra million, thanks to Thatcher’s machinations has made them so open and welcoming,” Auntie Elaine muttered.

“Dear, we benefited from her being a cunt too,” Ruth pointed out.

“Yes, but put most of that extra money into AIDs care and research, supporting miners, and we chipped in a good bit for that billboard listing her crimes.”

“You did?” 

“Of course we did.” 

“Have you ever gone to Pride?”

“No,” Auntie Elaine made a bit of a face. “I don’t quite understand why such a fuss needs to be made. All so...loud.”

“Because sometimes that is the only way you are heard,” Percival whispered.

Aunt Ruth wrapped an arm around him. “And what would you like to be heard, my love?”

“That I like men, even if I don’t have panache.”

“You have plenty of panache,” Ruth replied. “It is just a quiet panache. Also 17, still figuring out your panache.”

Auntie Elaine was just looking at him. “Is it...are you mad?”

“I’m not wearing anything glittery. Or a skirt.”

“Do you even own a skirt?” Percival had never seen Auntie Elaine in anything but trousers.

“No,” she said.

“Why would you wear glitter?”

“People at Pride wear glitter. And I am not wearing glitter. Or a boa.” She was frowning. “We will wear sensible shoes, no glitter, and if you carry any sort of sign, I prefer Not Queer as in Happy, but Queer as in Fuck You.”

“Auntie Elaine?” He bit his lip. “Are you going to take me to Pride?”

“Not like your parents will, it is ‘crass’,” she snorted. “And it is, but not in the way they mean. Just far too much glitter.”

“I don’t think I like glitter either. I do have a new suit though.”

“So do I,” Elaine smiled at him.

“I will partake in a modicum of glitter, along with sensible shoes,” Ruth said. “And any sign I carry will not contain curse words. Really Elaine.”

They wore sensible clothes, and it was impossible to avoid glitter, and it was utterly overwhelming, and a boy kissed him. His parents were furious, and all he said was “well, wearing a suit to such an event, shows a sort of panache, doesn’t it?” He was sent away to public school to finish secondary school, but putting him in a dorm with only other boys for company probably did not have the result they intended.

****

They were in the dining room, and Auntie Elaine was in a new suit, and Aunt Ruth in a new dress. And they were both trying not to cry. “It isn’t that a big a deal,” he said. “Lots of people go to law school. I might fail. You might want to save all this until I actually graduate, pass the bar?”

“No,” Auntie Elaine said firmly. “Because this is a big deal. Law School, is a big deal, and we will celebrate.”

Percival remembered when they had celebrated him tying his shoes on his own. Every award he won in school, his very few athletic awards, this. His parents just expected it and never said they were proud. He couldn’t get Auntie Elaine and Aunt Ruth to not say they were proud.

“We are so proud of you,” Aunt Ruth said.

“Guess I’ll need Uncle Irving’s law books,” he said, and she beamed. 

“They might be a bit out of date, by a few decades.”

“The history of law is just as important as law itself.”

“Any idea what branch you want to go into?” Auntie Elaine asked.

“Nothing exciting. Contracts. Business, I like ins and outs. Maybe help small businesses.” Percival shrugged. “I don’t particularly want to be in court a lot.”

“That sounds lovely,” Aunt Ruth raised her glass. “To our Percival.”

“To our boy, who always makes us proud,” Auntie Elaine said and he raised his glass as well, and he listened as they immediately began planning his law career for him; not in the way his father had, but more in a dreaming of possibilities way, that he appreciated.

*****

“How can you even think of doing this?” Auntie Elaine was looking at him in horror, and for the first time the say disdain that sometimes crossed his father’s face. Made him remember how much they looked alike.

“Because it would be the right thing to do,” he protested. He wasn’t happy about this choice, it was making him sick in his heart. He had thrown up when he tried to say the Hail Mary just to practice. But he had to.

“You are Jewish,” Auntie Elaine snapped. “You are _ Jewish. _ Not like your parents, you believe.”

“I know. You think I don’t know that?” He shouted; he had never shouted at Aunt Elaine in his life. It was killing him. “Do you think I don’t know who I am?”

“You clearly don’t that you are thinking of converting to Anglican, just to be that bitch’s daughter godfather.”

“She asked me, that is a big deal.”

“To change who you are? To deny yourself?” Aunt Elaine started cursing him out in yiddish, he didn’t even recognize some of the words. “You disappoint me today in a way I will never forgive,” she snapped, and stormed out of the kitchen.

His heart that was already breaking shattered into a million pieces. He went and sat on the third step of the servant’s stairs, and cried. The sobs poured out of him, and he leaned against the wall. He didn’t hear the footsteps, but felt an arm wrap around him. “Do you hate me too?”

“Oh my little lawyer, she doesn’t hate you. She is scared for you. How much this will hurt you.”

“They asked me to be godfather as an insult, sure I’d say no. You have to understand why I would say yes.”

“She has that Morton gene that deals in absolutes when angry. But luckily I am not a Morton, and can see around corners. Which church, what is the minister’s name?” Percival gave the information, and she kissed his cheek. “Go have a shower, you are covered in snot. I’ll take care of this.”

When he came back downstairs almost an house later, Auntie Elaine had a scotch and Auth Ruth a glass of wine. Aunt Ruth’s glare could have melted steel.

“I’m sorry,” Auntie Elaine said. “I’m so sorry, Percival. I just, you take us to temple every week. And I didn’t want to lose that. I didn’t want you to lose you.”

“I know,” he said, “But if I don’t do this, I never see Roxy. I know it is a trap, they believe I say no, or convert and lose myself - they win either way, but that girl is going to need me in her corner. Her parents are like Father and Mummy. I just want to be her Auntie Elaine. Her Aunt Ruth.” Percival wiped away a tear. “She’ll need someone in her corner.”

“And she’ll have her godfather,” Auth Ruth said. “While you two were busy both breaking Percival’s heart, I fixed it.”

Percival learned your jaw can actually drop in shock. “What did you do?”

“Called the minister. Anglicans come in two breeds, zealots and pragmatists. You got lucky, and it was a pragmatist. And the rectory needs a new roof.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Easy, you buy them a new roof, and your personal faith can be overlooked,” she smiled, well pleased with herself.

“Doesn’t a godfather have to promise to raise her in the faith should her parents pass? I know I read that,” Auntie Elaine said.

“Of course,” Aunt Ruth blinked. “And I reassured that sweet minister, that Percival would raise Roxy in faith. I just didn’t quite mention which faith. It is the same god after all, close enough.”

“I can’t afford a new roof for a church,” Percival couldn’t even fathom the cost.

“Just the rectory my dear, consider it my birthday gift to you.”

“Aunt Ruth,” he blinked away more tears, shocked that he still had some left.

“You think so straightforward, my dear, so do you Elaine, when sometimes the answer is just beside the road you are determined to drive down. Now I think we need food. I’ll order Chinese.”

She left them alone for a moment and Auntie Elaine simply reached out, and Percival took her hand.

A photo of him holding Roxy at her baptism sat on their mantle.

****

“You’ll take care of Ruth,” Auntie Elaine demanded. They were in the attic, bringing down the Hanukkah items. “You will make sure she is fine.”

“You’ll beat it,” he said.

“No, you know this time it can’t be beaten. My will is clear, she is set for life.” They found the box, and when he would have taken it downstairs, she stopped him. They sat on ancient chairs that desperately needed new fabric. “Percival. I don’t want to leave her.”

“You won’t,” he said. “You are Elaine Morton. You think cancer can really take you out?” He tried to snort dismissively. “You beat it before. You’ll beat it again.”

“If that is what you need, okay. But you will see her right.”

“Of course I will,” he promised.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw her?”

“Yes,” he said. “But tell me again.”

“She had a green hat on,” Auntie Elaine began, and lost herself in memories. He listened to her, the story always seemed so romantic to him, he would love a romantic moment like that. “I won’t be leaving her,” she said.

“Of course you won’t,” he agreed. “Come on, she’ll wonder if all the junk up here ate us.”

Auntie Elaine laughed and they brought the boxes downstairs. In her will the items were left to Percival, along with a great deal of money, and other treasures. 

She wasn’t dead two months when he sat Aunt Ruth down in her little private study in the house, that had her knitting and a few other things. “Mummy and Father, want to make you an offer for the house.”

“Do they?” Aunt Ruth smiled. She was looking haggard, as anyone who had lost their partner of decades would.

“And if you won’t sell, they are debating contesting the will.”

“Are they?”

“They are,” Percival swallowed. “And it was made clear, it was time for me to behave like a Morton, that you weren’t family after all. Not really. "Roommates" are hardly family.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I understand contracts better their any of their lawyers do, and I know where all their offshore money is, and I would tie them up for the rest of their lives, if they even hold a passing thought of going after you.” He looked at her. “I told them, I didn’t care if they ever spoke to me again, they could cut me out entirely, but they were not going after my family.”

Aunt Ruth smiled at him. “You know you look more like her, than your father.”

“I have Auntie Elaine’s jawline.”

“It looks good on both of you,” she said. She was looking just passed him, and he turned a bit. “She is so proud of you.”

“Was,” he reminded gently.

“No, she’s right there, dear.”

“I know if grief we can feel like…” Aunt Ruth was giggling a bit. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh dear, you didn’t think she’d leave me. She’s going to stick around for a while yet.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you worry about it,” she said. “Thank you my dear.”

“I told her I would look after you. You know my flat, it isn’t suiting me right now. Do you think I could move in while I find a new place?”

“I would welcome your company,” she promised him.

****

He was bringing tea to Aunt Ruth, she was recovering from a hip replacement. Roxy was keeping her company. The door the bedroom was open, and he could hear Roxy reciting from the Torah. He paused and listened as she struggled, but Aunt Ruth guided her.

“There, is that right?” Roxy asked.

“Very good.”

“I was reading online that they didn’t use to let women read the Torah in temple, that some still don’t,” Roxy sounded so offended, and it made him smile.

“Well those people can suck my kumquats,” Aunt Ruth replied. “It is for whoever needs the words.”

“I’m Anglican, I guess. We go to Christmas Eve service. I like the song Silent Night.”

“I do too,” Auth Ruth agreed.

“But that isn’t what you believe.”

“What I can’t find a good song, a good song?”

“I’m 12.”

“A wonderful 12.”

“If I say these words to you, does that count as my bat mitzvah?” Roxy asked, and Percival fought back tears. “Because then I am like you and Uncle Percival. Like Auntie Elaine was."

“For me, it counts,” Aunt Ruth promised her. “God knows what we carry in our hearts.”

Percival brought the tray in. “Tea,” he said.

“Can you listen to me for a minute?” Roxy asked. 

“I can always listen to you,” he promised her. And he and Aunt Ruth listened to her. It was the same passage he had read so many years ago.

***

“Hold my hand, my dear,” Aunt Ruth said in the garden. It was winter, and the garden lay fallow but she had insisted. She was so small now, that he had easily carried her and the blankets she was wrapped in out to the garden. “It will be nice to be with, Elaine again.”

“Aunt Ruth?”

“She’s been getting impatient,” Aunt Ruth was smiling, looking just passed him, as she had done for over a decade. “I have too.”

“Dead is dead, Aunt Ruth,” he said.

“Oh no dear, she has been haunting this place, and I will join her.”

He couldn’t argue with a dying woman’s delusion. “Oh, and why will you two be haunting this house?”

“No, dear, haunting you,” she said. “You think we would leave you alone? No, of course not. Looked after you your whole life, not going to stop just because we are dead.”

“We don’t believe in ghosts.”

“A little thing like that stop us?” She snorted, and sounded just like Auntie Elaine. “We won’t leave you until you find true love.”

“I might be meant for bachelorhood.”

“No, no you want to love. You are just scared. But it is out there for you. You will find it. Now, I have a favour to ask of you.”

“Anything.”

“There is a woman’s shelter. I’ve been donating to them, but they are always shorthanded. I’ve sent money aside to keep the donations up after I pass, and I was hoping. Those women, they could use a lawyer, some advice. Every once in a while.”

“I will,” he promised. 

“There is a box in the attic. Letters we wrote each other. Give them to Roxy, when she comes out.”

He smiled a bit at that, “I will,” he promised.

“I love this garden. Such a bad gardener. You’ll tend to it well though.” They sat there and he listened as her breath grew weaker. When she passed, he picked her up, and carried her inside and called the numbers they had been left for when this happened.

A year later when Roxy came out to him, he had the letters ready for her.

***

He was putting on a suit and felt them. “It looks fine,” he complained. He could feel Aunt Ruth fussing at the shoulders, and Auntie Elaine glaring at him. “Look, Father is a complete waste of skin, but his tailor makes perfectly adequate suits."

His wardrobe door slammed shut.

“Yes, it is perhaps a little boring but -” his mirror rattled a bit. “Fine! I’ll find a new tailor,” he said, and headed out for work. 

When he came home he did some research online, ghosts hovering. “There, Kingsman Tailors. They look promising. Will you leave me alone if I make an appointment?” A kiss brushed his cheek, Aunt Ruth and her kisses.

Percival picked up his phone, and made a consulting appointment at Kingsman.


End file.
